My husband has been researching his ancestry. He’s always known about his Bergen ancestors, and in his recent explorations he’s discovered relatives in the States … and met one! Their common ancestor comes not from Bergen, but from Fusa, very close to where we live now in Os.

Last week Jan and I drove out to Fusa for a couple hours’ visit. A short journey away — about thirty minutes, including the ferry — Fusa is a small community along the side of the Bjørnefjorden. I was entranced with the location and the views. It isn’t as expansive a view as where we live now, as it’s more level with the fjord on one side and a steeper mountain hill on the other. I felt an intimacy with the fjord waters that I can’t get from our view from 100 meters up.

Here are photos from the day, beginning with the short wait on the Osøyro side of the fjord for the ferry that runs about every thirty minutes (and doesn’t offer any view) …

… a quick shot over Bjørnefjorden from the Fusa side of the crossing …

… and another quick shot over Bjørnefjorden from the area that Jan’s ancestors lived …

… stopping to take few shots across the Bjørnefjord towards Solstrand and Osøyro …

… driving down to stand next to the fjord, again looking towards Osøyro …

… laughing at MacKenzie, who couldn’t get enough of the dry winter grass that felt so good on her dry winter coat …

… standing transformed by the silence and calm of the fjord, watching the ferry as it made its way back and forth across the fjord …

… pausing for a moment to look behind me towards the mountain hill, notice a slide that emptied into the fjord, and mentally plan to get back in the summer to watch the kids and parents having fun …

… traveling towards the cemetery, and discovering a place of ancient and modern monuments representing history, love, and tranquility a few steps from the fjord (not visible in the photos is the small creek that ran beside the cemetery on its journey from mountain to fjord; its sound was soothing and comforting) …

… and finally, waiting at the pier for the return ferry, watching the gulls and fish eagles active on their own little island, their own little piece of Norway …

You’d think I’d stop being surprised at my delight in every newly discovered place in my part of the world. I hope I never am!